Camaro Misadventures
by Circe-Baka
Summary: Mello explains a time when Matt's drifting antics takes a wrong turn.


Honestly...what's wrong with him? He needs to stop acting like such an idiot sometimes...

I know I shouldn't be writing about this, because I'm sure if Matt finds me saying anything about this (even just typing it idly to get my frustrations out), he'll overreact and start whining.

God...I don't get him.

I just can't believe what he did today.

Bah...on the off chance that you find this, Matt, lemme just say that you're my friend...you big, stupid idiot! Listen to me once and while!

Grrr!

...This isn't what I wanted to say. Calming down isn't my strong suit at all.

But I know if I don't get all of this out in some way I'm going to explode.

It all started a week ago. Matt had wanted to go drifting Friday night. Friday is usually the night that the two of us try to do something cool, since most of the time we're busy with work and whatnot. It's really our only time to have fun during the week.

I told him we would go later that night. Beforehand we ended up doing a few things I had wanted to do: looking for some new curtains for our flat. Hey, don't give me that look! There's nothing wrong with a man being interested in interior design. The kinds we have now are just awful.

I ended up mistakenly eating some expired chocolate after our shopping was done. Since when does that stuff even expire? ...Either way, I got a terrible stomach ache and we weren't able to go out. After a while I had felt much better and was ready to go out with Matt.

Though Matt, in his infinite stupidity, didn't want to bother me to go out. He was all worried that since I was sick earlier it wasn't best to go out at all.

"Matt!" I yelled at him, slamming my fist on the couch I sat upon. "C'mon, let's go out, you idiot!"

He walked around the room, ignoring me a moment before turning to me with an irritated expression, sighing deeply. "It's _fiiiiiine_..." he utters.

I know him. He's pouting. It's not fine. He was looking forward to drifting all week. I suppose I kind of ruined this for him since he's trying to be sympathetic and worry about me.

But...dammit, Mile.

"What's wrong with you? If I say I'm fine, I'm FINE."

He shakes his head, stomping a foot once on the floor, looking at me with a bored look. "It's fine. We did what you wanted to do. It's not a big deal...ok?"

Matt, stop it already. I know you're angry. We did what I wanted, but I also wanted to do what you wanted, too. You've had your heart set on drifting all week. It's not fair to you.

Anyways, we ended up not going out. After a long talk after our argument, I reminded him that what he wanted to do was just as important as what I wanted to do. Told him I was disappointed in him for being such a pushover with me.

Matt, just tell me already what you want to do. We'll do it, moron.

I guess my talk got through to him.

He promised me that he wouldn't get discouraged about bothering me to do stuff he wanted, and insisted we drift the following Monday. I smiled and agreed.

We made some time that day just for Mattie. We pulled up to his favorite parking lot where I made him park. I turned to Matt, revealing a new, small camcorder to him.

He gave me a shocked expression. "What's that for?"

"Thought I'd make it up to you by recording you and your crazy antics. So you can see how awesome your moves are."

He smiled, looking like a happy puppy.

I grinned, getting out of the car. I stood on the grass, balancing the camcorder in my hands. I gave him a thumbs up as he positioned his car into a corner of the lot.

Once ready, he flashed his headlights and then began.

Tires screeched loudly as I began to feel adrenaline begin to flow into my veins. I have the feeling I'm just as excited to watch Matt perform his stunts as he is to do them.

He turns the wheel to the right completely, creating two large black trails on the concrete. His Camaro halts into a stop as the car settles.

I beckon him over and hop back into the passenger's seat, showing off the video. He starts to bounce in his seat, flailing his arms and uttering squeaky girly noises. I never knew he could make such sounds as I can't help but chuckle in response.

"That's great!" he exclaims, looking up at me with such joyful eyes.

I smile. "Wanna go again?" I ask, tossing the camera around in one hand.

He nods as I exit the car. I decide to take a different position to get the shot at a better angle. Once ready, I give him the go. He's already in position to start. I chuckle and get ready to record.

He begins as before, flooring the car as the tires meet the pavement hard, screeching loudly. Matt turns the wheel, skidding on the blacktop.

I'm shaken a little as I hear a sound similar to a gunshot pop out of nowhere. I try to keep my balance, continuing to record the event.

He parks and I see him exit the car and pour over the front left tire.

I'm starting to get confused as I come over to him. "What happened?"

He turned to me, sniveling and shaking his arms about. "No...just NO!"

"No?" I'm a little nervous by now. I pocket the tiny camcorder and come closer, looking over the tire.

I'm no expert on car parts. Never meant much to me, so bear with me. I'm shocked to see the rubbery part of the tire crumpled under the silvery part (I'm a genius, but doesn't meant I know everything. You better not be reading this, Near!)

...ok fine. I went and looked up what the parts are.

I'll rewrite that.

I'm shocked to see the tire deflated and crumpled and flat under the rim. The rim is touching the concrete. As I look to the other wheels, I'm quick to notice that tires aren't supposed to look this way.

I think it's safe to assume that the gun shot noise was the tire blowing out.

I turn to Matt. He catches my glance and falls into me, grabbing me around the waist. "Mells! What did I do? My poor baby!" He blubbers, tears covering my quilted top.

"Get off me!" I try to pry him off without any luck. I sigh, attempting to curb my anger. He's acting so immature, it's hard not to be immediately irritated with him.

But at the same time...aw Matt. You wanted to do this all week. You were so hyped to do it. And now...I kinda feel bad for him. I'm sure he's really upset now.

"Matt..." I say a little calmer.

"M-My Camaro..."

"Matt." My volume increases.

"My bay-bee..."

"MATT!"

"What?" He looks up, the flow of tears slowing.

I heave a sigh, attempting to calm down some. "Can't you just put on a spare?" I somehow had remembered something about cars. At the very least I knew when one got a flat then you replace it with a spare tire.

"Don't you know how?" He whines, wiping his eyes with a striped sleeve.

"How the hell would I know?" I shout. "I know nothing about this. You're the one who fixed up this hunk-o-junk before. Hell, you've fixed a flat before! I saw it, I WAS THERE!"

He finally releases me, blinking a few times. "Oh yeah..." he admits in a whisper.

My palm slams into my forehead. Ouch. Unconscious response. I'm baffled...how is he supposed to be third in line for L's successor?

Matt tosses off his fuzzy vest which I end up holding. He pulls his goggles over his eyes and begins his work, removing everything from the trunk to pull out the spare tire.

I watch as he puts, as he said, the jack under the car. Soon the car is elevated and he's ready to remove the broken one.

He moves so far, it's almost unbelievable to believe he was the same guy attached to me like a snot-nosed brat crying about stupid things.

He proves that when he wants to, Matt can be very competent. I begin to watch him amazed, standing over him, asking him every so often about what tool he's using or what exactly he's doing.

Once finished, the donut is on and the old tire in the trunk. We get back into the car as I look over at Matt, rather proud of him. I smile at him.

He turns to me, shaking a little.

"Mattie?" I ask, a little concerned.

He throws his arms into the air, hitting the ceiling of the car. "I'm saw-reee!" He cries, grasping the steering wheel, chest heaving. "My poor baby...I rode you way too hard. Forgive me!"

I had been impressed.

Had.

Matt. You supreme idiot.

I roll my eyes, patting him on the shoulder.

He smiles, petting the steering wheel affectionately.

Matt may be a big weirdo sometimes, but even I have to appreciate his passion. He may be a little too close to that car of his, but I'll always remember the passion he can have for such activities. I'm sure Mattie can do anything he puts his mind to.

Ok. That was really cheesy. Ick. Not like me at all.

But...I guess it's not such a bad thing to say.


End file.
